Think of all of the adventures you’d have if you got a summer job at the Essence kiosk at the mall.
That Bose salesman who has been flirting with you since May turns out is married and anyway was flirting with the girls from L’Occitane too. They won’t let you listen to your walkman but you have a little transistor you keep behind the Giorgio and tune into WEBN when no one is around. When your shift is over you’ll blow your paycheck at Tape World on posters of G’n’R (you think Izzy is the hottest) and Cheap Trick cassettes and walk around the food court for a half an hour looking for that kid who works at the subs place who sometimes deals pot behind the dumpsters out back because your older brother asked you if you could score him any. You spend your fifteen minute lunch break staring at puppies while drinking a large Pepsi. At the end of summer you rip off your name tag (they spelled it wrong anyway), sneak a bottle of Balenciaga pour Homme into your backpack, flag down a guy wearing a windsurfing t-shirt by the exit and tell him to take you as far away from there as he can.